


i had a dream (that you were mine)

by essenceofheroism



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, F/M, The Flash - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 21:25:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10648356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essenceofheroism/pseuds/essenceofheroism
Summary: Dying doesn’t really feel like anything. Not at first, at least. The most unrealistic myths about last moments, the most dramatic and untrue misconception that people hold, are that faces flash before your face right before it happens. They don’t. There are no faces, there are no memories; it is first panic, then the possibility of hope of being saved, and then resignation because you weren’t (saved, that is.) Barry has felt all three. And then there was Iris.





	i had a dream (that you were mine)

Dying doesn’t really feel like anything. Not at first, at least. The most unrealistic myths about last moments, the most dramatic and untrue misconception that people hold, are that faces flash before your face right before it happens. They don’t. There are no faces, there are no memories; it is first panic, then the possibility of hope of being saved, and then resignation because you weren’t (saved, that is.) Barry has felt all three. And then there was Iris.

 

 

 

She’s surprised to see (yet) another dimension open up before her eyes and Iris sighs, because this is their life now. Kara Zor-El’s body is carried limp and Barry seems to recognize her pretty well. Iris kind of feels bad for Kara’s not-boyfriend. He’s certainly taken by this, whatever _it_ is that has Kara in this comma-like _thing_. Weren’t superheros supposed to be indestructible? It’s okay though, or at least it will be, because Barry is here. He will fix it. These days he seems to be able to fix everything and everyone but them. Iris avoids his eyes over Kara’s body. She’s about to leave after chatting with HR about the literacy fantasy that he thinks Kara must be trapped in, like the door to Narnia-type fairytale, or like Sleeping Beauty — she _is_ really beautiful. But Barry wouldn’t — no, he wouldn’t, she pushes that thought away. 

She’s trying to rake her mind for today’s story for Andrew Jimms, the new editor-in-chief, when Caitlin cries out “ _It’s Barry_ ” and then Iris doesn’t know how the message travelled from her brain to her feet but next thing, she’s in front of his now-limp form. Oh no, this is not good, she thinks on cue. Barry was supposed to fix this, he had to fix this first. “This” means too many things, she has to remind herself he’s not — dead. He can still fix this, and Kara, and them. She just has to get him back first. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“How much do you love him?” 

 

Iris clenches her jaw. She is not here to play games or guess riddles. She is here to save Barry and this criminal from another ambiguous world is just wasting here time - she does not need this right now. It’s not like it’s a hard question. She would amuse him, if she had the time. It’s not an easy one, either. Loving Barry is like having a right arm. You don’t love that you have a right arm. You’re just subconsciously grateful for its presence. It’s one of those things that don’t have words to explain them, she knows she’s not making sense. (Anyway, Barry likes to know how much she loves him in pressed forehead kisses or lingering gazes or intertwined legs on a lazy Sunday morning. Him knowing is all that matters, really.) She’s about to tell Mon -Whatever to leave because she knows how these metas play with your head before he says, “Iris West, hm. That hyphenated last name of yours is still a possibility. Won’t be though, if he never makes it to 2024.” 

 

_it used to say ‘Iris West-Allen’, I don’t know what changed —_

 

And it strikes her for the first time that maybe it wasn’t her death at all that stopped that from becoming a possibility. Maybe it was _his?_ Iris feels like she’s choking on glass shards. There are tears pooling in the base of her throat but she will not cry. Not yet. Barry is still convulsing when she gets back and she doesn’t care what happens to her now, not now when she’s felt what Barry must have been feeling ever since that night he saw her die. She always thought she knew what it felt like to be left behind — first Eddie, then her mom. She thought she had served her full share of that blank space but the universe had other plans in mind. Iris couldn’t really think about that right now, about losing Barry, she couldn’t. She settled on crossing dimensions instead. 

 

 

 

 

 

The nausea that rushes in almost makes her forget why she’s here. Her first instinct is to look around but there isn’t much time to admire the scenery when the first thing in her line of sight is Barry Allen with a gun wound. She doesn’t know if their story is tragic or just plain pathetic, that someone has to die in it or around it, for them to have a story at all. 

 

“ _Barry,_ ” Iris breathes. She forgets at all that there is a Kara and Mon-What in this story. Her body-con is way too tight to comfortably sit on her knees but she’ll ask Barry to buy her a new one, he’s blamed for this one’s demise, after all. (She remembers sickly that there needs to be a Barry living for her to do that all.) 

 

Her hand instinctively falls on his neck and suddenly he’s holding her again, and she smiles with that flickering, nervous tragedy of a smile and its like they forget everything after that night with the story about his grandfather and her “ _yes, yes, yes” ._

 

“I love you, Iris,” Barry’s breath hitches. And _no no no no no._

 

Remember how Iris asked herself what they were a few minutes ago? She settles that they are a tragedy. Isn’t that what she says to him when she died? Doesn’t he say “ _no, don’t say that_ ” like she just did? Their romance is just walking, talking melancholy. 

 

_it says Iris West-Allen —_   
_oh? —_   
_these violent delights.. —_

 

“I love you too.” 

 

She says it too fast, it’s rushed and ugly, and poorly articulated. Not at all like it is in the movies, because in the movies, they have 2 hours and 15 minutes but Iris West doesn’t have time, she doesn’t have enough time. What if he died without hearing it? That would be — _Barry, please don’t._

She doesn’t realize she’s said it out loud. Barry smiles. The ironic thing about pleas, is that they’re usually made hopelessly. 

 

_have violent ends._ — 

 

Didn’t she call Kara Sleeping Beauty just an hour ago? She hates herself. Iris hates the irony, and she hates everything she dreamed of getting ripped in half. It’s instant, the overflow of her conscious reminding her of what just happened. Going to Thailand after Wally’s graduation — ripped in half: going to Thailand without Barry. Going to college again to get a PhD — ripped in half: going to college without visits from Barry. An article in 2024, with by-line Iris West-Allen — ripped in half: who is Iris West-Allen? 

She’s mad that there are no tears streaming down her face — typical damsel in not-distress? She’s mad that there was not more time, she’s mad there never is. She can’t think of anything right now. Just Barry, Barry, Barry. She’s just thinking of herself right now, her future without a Barry.  

“You still owe me that stupid ring, Barry,” and now she’s shaking a little too. She’s watching his chest and how its lost its rise and fall and its making her _so angry_ and for fuck’s sake, she is in an _alternative reality —_ this cannot be happening so she leans down. He tastes like a new beginning. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> feels good if you commented! find me at www.ohliverfelicity.tumblr.com!


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